


Butter Knives

by Patronoftheravens



Series: Of Wolves and Lilies: A Collection of Roche/Geralt Drabbles [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Smut, bottom vernon, it literally got typed up in an hour, self indulgent king AU, three am smut, top geralt, witcher senses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:45:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7788967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patronoftheravens/pseuds/Patronoftheravens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vernon became King of vassal state Temeria. A king naturally has to put up with assassination attempts. Vernon thwarts such one and it turns Geralt on. You know what happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butter Knives

It was a simple formal dinner in Vizima. Vernon sat at the head of the table watching the proceedings underneath him. Geralt and Margarita were next to him, also watching as they ate. There was small talk with other nobles, nothing of great importance though. What were these borders for? Is this wine from Toussaint? Trivial questions such as that. A few times someone approached him for a toast and he gladly accepted. One such well wisher seemed a bit off to Geralt. His heart was beating a little too fast and his well wishes were a bit stammered and was that… was that the scent of beggartick blossoms? The man pulled a knife and went to stab Vernon. Margarita readied a spell. Geralt drew his blade. The knife grew closer to Vernon. Before it hit however, Vernon’s heart picked up. His breathing deepened. If you looked closely, his pupils dilated to rich black inkblots in the middle of doe brown eyes. The witcher could practically feel the adrenaline rush that drowned Roche’s brain in endorphins. In a flash that Geralt barely even saw, he grabbed the butter knife from the table and buried it up to the hilt in the would be assailant’s chest. He exhaled sharply through his teeth as he drove the knife home and Geralt felt his pants tighten as the assassin fell. Scarlet blood seeped around the butter knife and a shocked servant carried him away. Vernon’s heartbeat was still soaring and Geralt felt his rising to match. Gods, he was hot right now. Margarita slipped him a knowing smirk as they sat back down.   
“Well go on,” he announced to the slack jawed, wide-eyed, dumbfounded nobles, “don’t let me interrupt you.”  
The nobles slowly returned to their milling and Geralt locked eyes with Vernon.   
“Vernon,” he growled through his teeth.  
“Yes Geralt?”   
“If I could request,” he took a deep steadying breath, “your majesty’s presence in his bedchamber at his earliest convenience.”   
Vernon smirked slowly and stood with utmost deliberance, “You’ll pardon me, honored guests, but I must retire at the moment. I wish you all the best of nights.”   
He began the slow walk back to his quarters followed by Geralt and the obvious sound of his labored breathing.  
“Something bothering you wolf?” Smirked Vernon once back into his chambers.  
“I’m not going to answer that damn question. Take off your crown so I don’t knock it off.”   
Vernon did so, placing the twining silver circlet on the stand on his dresser. As soon as that crown touched the head of the stand, Geralt’s rough, hot lips were on Vernon’s, plying his mouth open to taste every bit of him. The kiss was desperate and lustful, almost utterly debauched and Vernon loved it, calloused fingers knotting into silver locks pulling him closer. Geralt pulled away, breahtless.  
“You find it hot when I kill someone in front of you?” Asked Vernon with a quirk to his brow.  
“Kill someone?” Geralt’s lips were still mere centimeters from his, “Vernon, you drove a butter knife into a man’s ribs without batting an eye.”  
“What else was I to use?”  
“You have a sword at your hip.”  
“Would have taken too long. You didn’t answer my question,” he pressed a kiss to Geralt’s jaw.”  
“Yes,” a kiss to Vernon’s cheekbone, “I do.” a little higher up, near his temple, “You want to know why?” He purred, nipping lightly at the point of Vernon’s ear. The scrape of teeth against what was normally covered by hair or chaperon nearly had him melting in Geralt’s arms.   
“Gods yes if it means you’ll stop teasing me.”  
“Oh no, you’re going to be begging for me to fuck you raw by the time I’m done with you.”  
Vernon let out a little gasp, “Why do you get turned on from me killing someone then?”  
“Because I can hear the blood pounding through your body. I can practically feel each breath flowing into you, getting deeper and heavier. I can see your pupils dilate like some hunter that’s finally found his prey. With each throb of your heart my head is flooded with the same adrenaline yours is. With every inhale my heart drums like some frantic tattoo and I’m engulfed by how many endorphins are pumping throughout your body.”  
`Vernon was trembling now, but he’d never admit it. Geralt’s growled words had set every sense afire. This didn’t help as Geralt’s mouth tracked down his neck, fingers undoing the buttons of the doublet. He popped off his shoes, hooking a toe under the heel and pulling and not paying attention to where they landed, His doublet now lay open, scarred chest at the mercy of Geralt’s teasing mouth, When the Witcher’s just slightly too sharp teeth tugged at one of Vernon’s nipples as his hand palmed his throbbing erection through the silk of his trousers, he about begged then and there.   
“Fucking hell, Geralt,” he moaned as Geralt’s hand roughly shoved down his pants and took his cock in a tight fist, stroking roughly and quickly, “fuck me…” he panted, lust blown coppery eyes locking with liquid gold.  
“Mmm…” purred Geralt, “ask a little nicer.”  
Vernon would have rolled his eyes, had he enough control over those small muscles. “Please, Geralt.”  
“That’s a good Vernon.” He nipped once again at the knife-point in Vernon’s ear as he slowly pushed into him, working so painstakingly slowly into him Vernon rocked his hips forward, dragging a moan from both of their throats.   
“I said please, Geralt. Don’t be-ah!- fucking gentle,” snarled Vernon through gritted teeth. Geralt slowly, would’ve been slower if not for Vernon’s nails digging hard into his shoulder, built up a steady, quick rhythm, fingers playing across Vernon’s body as if he were each fuller and ridge in Geralt’s beloved blades. It was maddening. Vernon’s gasps and moans drove Geralt mad. How dare he sound so damn gorgeous underneath him. His control snapped when nails dug little bloody semicircles into his shoulder blades with a strangled cry as he slammed straight into that bundle of nerves, yes that one.  
“Geralt…” panted out Vernon, “You don’t hit that again and I’m strangling you with your sword belts.”  
“Kinky.” Was all Geralt had in response before once again thrusting right into that sensitive spot causing Vernon to arch and claw into him. It only took a few more thrusts before Vernon came with a loud moan, eyes screwing up. The sudden heat and tightness of Vernon around him dragged Geralt over the edge with a muffled moan into the crook of his lover’s neck.  
They lay there panting and gasping for air for what seemed like a small eternity before Geralt set about changing the sheets, picking up and moving Vernon over to the chair for a second and then moved him back over to the bed, laying down with him wrapped in his arms.


End file.
